


The Convention - At the Panel (Day 1: Holding Hands)

by drownedinblissfulconfusion (tundraeternal)



Series: The Convention [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Convention, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/pseuds/drownedinblissfulconfusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30-Day OTP Challenge</p><p>A succession of Cockles ficlets, set at a fictional convention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Convention - At the Panel (Day 1: Holding Hands)

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not personally know any of the people I'm writing about. As far as I'm concerned, these are fictional characters in some alternate universe, which exists someplace between our own and the French Drop universe, who happen to bear superficial resemblance to our boys (and girls). Their conversations, personalities, and innermost thoughts are generally extrapolated from plausible reality, occasionally made up from whole cloth.

Jensen is enjoying himself far more than he thought he would. Maybe more than he should be, but he won't let that worry him. He tries to be detached and professional on his panels, but somehow his joint panels with Misha always end up deteriorating. Well, not deteriorating, exactly. Maybe evolving. Jensen loves it, actually. Loves that Misha's reckless energy is so infectious; how it flows into Jensen as confidence and elation. Misha's better than any smooth whiskey for making Jensen feel drunk, so that he's able to just let go, to be comfortable and ride the high, even in front of thousands of screaming girls. 

When Misha flirts, Jensen flirts back. It's all for the spectacle, he thinks; Misha's a hell of a showman and he lives for the audience reaction. They're doing it for the fans. Or so Jensen tells himself. They had just fielded a question about the 'Dean-Cas stare', and Misha had caught his eye, eyebrow raised in challenge. And now they're face to face, gazing into each other's eyes, each daring the other to laugh first, while out on the floor the auditorium roars with applause and catcalls.

Misha stands a little too close to him, as usual. No one but the two of them fully realizes how much of the chemistry between Cas and Dean is actually Misha and Jensen. From Day One of filming together, their intensity has been real. Jensen's not sure what it means, but it's definitely made the job exhilarating for the past few years. And earned him one of the best friends he's ever had. Interesting, the odd ways in which his life parallels Dean's. 

His thoughts snap back to the present when Misha reaches down and takes one of his hands. Jensen quirks an eyebrow, questioning, and gets a small wink in return. Misha's winks are dangerous things. This can't bode well. Misha begins to rub his thumbs in small circles along Jensen's knuckles, the motion smooth and hypnotic. It's much too small and soft a movement to be caught by the greedy, watchful eyes out in the sea of chairs. This part isn't just for show, then. 

Jensen no longer has the urge to laugh. His instinctive urge is to pull back, but he can't quite seem to do it. He still feels loose with the intoxication that is Misha, not quite in full control of himself. Have they been standing this way for too long? Has it been a few seconds, or is it stretching into minutes? The audience seems quieter, hushed. Bored? Waiting? Or is Jensen just tuning them out? He tries to think of a joke, a wry one-liner, anything to break this strange tension and get his feet back under him. He's almost got a grasp on a word or two of English--hey, it's a start--when he realizes Misha's closer than before. Before he knows what's happening, Misha has raised his hand to his lips, and the softly circling thumbs are replaced by the press of lips, hot and dry, against his fingers. 

The burst of wild noise from the audience snaps Jensen back to himself. He gives his head a shake, and pulls his hand away. Misha, the bastard, is smirking at him. It's all a game. It's all a show. Jensen puts on a grin, turns on the boyish charm, and looks out at the audience. He shrugs to ask them, 'what can you do?' and thanks his lucky stars when Rich shows up at the side of the stage to tell them it's over. 

As he and Misha duck behind the curtains that hide the exit, he grabs hold of Misha's wrist and leans in close behind him to murmur, "I'm gonna get you back for that, you dick." 

"I'm looking forward to that." Misha gravels back, startling Jensen into letting go of his arm. 

Jensen stands frozen, staring after him, until one of the con personnel nearly bumps into him on her way through the door. He's glad he's got an hour of downtime before autographs. He needs to get his head in order and figure out what on earth is going on. And he definitely needs a drink.


End file.
